


Carnage

by annplatan



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Future Fic, Multi, Psychological, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 23:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4498344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annplatan/pseuds/annplatan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nagisa left his life after high school to become an assassin. The only people from his past that he actually sees is Kayano and Asano. What about Karma? When is he going to see Nagisa? Why is Kayano trying to control Nagisa's life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Current Lifestyle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ ] - square brackets. What happens between square brackets is always a flashback had by the person that the scene in the story is focusing on.
> 
> { } - between fancy brackets is something narrated in the past. Square brackets appear here also as flashbacks had in the narrated past. 
> 
> (.5) - these are used to mark pauses in spoken language (they look more like this: (.), (0.5) in transcripts.) It's to replace the dot dot dot (...) as that can mean a lack of information given in a conversation. The bigger the number, the longer the pause.
> 
> Italics I use to voice the character's inner thoughts, turmoil, state of mind.
> 
> I hope this helps, and if it doesn't, sorry!
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoy the fic!

Nagisa is living with Kayano, this had been the situation about a year into Kayano’s college life. She had found him at a cafe in the city she was studying in. She offered him a place to stay in her apartment, he now stays there when he’s not on a job. He prepares breakfast, and dinner for when she comes back. Even though she graduated and started taking up acting gigs, they still keep this lifestyle.

He has time to go out in the city and explore the fields on the outskirts; just like wander around, sometimes for hours. Other times he’d just lie down and… go to sleep.  
[Once when he was minding his own business (napping in a beautiful area dotted with soft yellow flowers), having the most wonderful of dreams, he was woken by someone shaking him. As he was going to open his mouth to complain, a sweet voice had interrupted him: “Nagisa (.5) let’s get going”. Nagisa, shot up terrified(dazed?), his hair (which had grown waist-length) had gotten tangled in the dirt and grass. Kayano started with an amused smile, her eyes looked a bit swollen. After walking on a while (hand in hand) Nagisa had asked if she was tired. She looked at him (they have approximately the same height Nagisa noted) and asked him to carry her to his motorcycle. Nagisa didn’t mind, he obliged and as he was picking her up he wondered how she had found him and how she’d gotten to him.]

Now, he’s cooking. Recently Nagisa was brushing up on his Italian literature and Kayano had jested that he’d be able to understand it better if he was eating Italian, he’d then promised her Italian cuisine for tonight. He decided to make a smaller Margherita pizza with thin crust, lightly bake some pita bread slices (not necessarily Italian srry not srry) to be drizzled with olive oil, he was now dressing a Capressa salad with a sauce(can it be considered a sauce?) he made a few hours ago with an egg yolk, mustard, olive oil, a little garlic and something else (at some point he swore he was just adding random shit in). He also made some pasta with fried mushrooms and broccoli, mixed in a yoghurt sauce. 

Pizza finished cooking, he went to get it and as he opened the oven door

he saw that he wasn’t wearing anything to cover his hands. My hands.  
He looked to the kitchen to see if there wasn’t something lying around for him to grab and quickly put on, but he couldn’t see anything that he’d bother to get.  
Would it hurt (.) my hands, he looked down and spread out his fingers and tensed the muscles for him to observe. They were slender, you could see the small veins branch upwards from the base of the backs of his hands, pale hands, pale arms. The kitchen had become a bit hot since Nagisa had started cooking, he was wearing grey shorts, a loose kaki shirt; his long hair he tied up in a tight bun, a few loose threads cling to the sides of his face, he tucks those behind his ears and the part of hair that usually covers his forehead is put up, held in place by two bobby pins. He was sweating a bit from the heat radiating from the oven. Pale legs pale complexion. “huh” he observed quickly, in a more amused tone,  
“I really should get a little tanned”, Nagisa reached for the pan the pizza was on with his left hand. 

 

He was tying the knot to his bandaging when Kayano came in the apartment. She was humming a tune to some kind of pop song that was vaguely familiar to Nagisa, who rushed to place the cutlery on their little table in the kitchen. “I made dinner” he announced. “I know” she sang, her tone was cheerful. Nagisa loves it when Kayano is in a good mood, it makes her talkative and benevolent, when she’s cheerful Kayano takes time to talk about herself, not about her life but what she feels, more like her opinion. Nagisa finds out how she works, how she reacts (and to what she reacts), what the wavelengths mean, how to please and keep her happy.  
Even though it is harder to get in her thoughts (Nagisa has decided that she is very unpredictable), Nagisa has found that Kayano tends to express emotions, in ways that Nagisa didn’t know were possible.  
Nagisa doesn’t call these expressions selfish (maybe he should). What he’s found about Kayano is that her sense of empathy is inflated(?). That’s also what makes her a good actor, what gets her friends, makes her adored; [would sitting differently suggest this] [what intonation would remind him/her of that time we] [playing with my hair will have him compare me with his sister]. She knows how to make people feel the way she wants(?) them to feel. 

She analyses and proceeds based on reactions, minute details portrayed and focuses on whoever she is trying to manoeuvre, while Nagisa reads the atmosphere and attempts at moulding it until it’s within the boundaries of control, or he just lets it flow, lets things take their coarse; Kayano experiments, pushes but knows how to edit it into something that she likes, though Nagisa has tried to predict what she’d do based on his behaviour but he’s never been that successful. She’d start giggling, realising what he was doing, it was useless logging her patterns, because she’s always on guard and quickly notices if something is off. 

She knows when to express herself, her timing is perfect.  
She can avoid awkwardness when expressing herself because she knows how to eliminate it from the equation. There are no boundaries in privacy if she doesn’t want there to be, Nagisa was thinking while he greeted Kayano when she came into the kitchen, 

“I had a wonderful day today” she said, smiling and taking off her jacket. She had straight black hair that, at the ends, seemed to caress her bare shoulders; the ends of her hair were dark green from when she used to dye her hair before, the faded colour visible in the warm light of the kitchen. She was wearing a black dress that clung to her slim figure, ending slightly above the knees. She was definitely not wearing this when she left the house in the morning.  
“Is it because you were on a wonderful date?”  
“More like the only thing getting me through the day was the image of your wonderful face in mind.”. Nagisa gave a small grin, “Just sit down and eat” it seemed to command.

 

Karma was tired. He was headed home when he noticed the liveliness of a bar from his black Mercedes. He previously felt like he needed some sleep, but now he felt as if he needed to get some wasted. He parked on the curb and made a bee-line for the enclosure. There was a queue (odd for a bar, was it a club?),but however reluctant the guard seemed to be on letting Karma through, Karma’s charms seemed to prove too great an obstacle in keeping him from entering. Entering, Karma felt the lighting, so intense it almost blinded him. The room was being chocked by a red miasma, heavy smoke lazy in the corners. He noticed the crowd of the club, dressed in transparent fabrics that the youths seemed to layer all over themselves, young crowd heavily accessorised with jewellery and garments. What type of place have I stumbled on. 

There were dancers, moving abnormally and sometimes against the rhythm of the music; dancers both boys and girls. So young, Karma imagined Nagisa dancing there on a podium but shoved the image aside. He’s wide awake but I feel as if I could drop at any moment (.5) loose focus. He climbed up some steel stairs to about a story higher, where the gathering of individuals could be noticed from above. “Are you supposed to be here”, someone had asked. “Of course”, Karma had straightened himself, corrected his posture, “always”. Whoever it had been, they’d left Karma alone. Looking up, Karma could only see a vague darkness, which would occasionally seem to glint; or glow, if I see no ending does that mean that I am starring at void, finality or infinity? He mused at how confusing his thoughts had started to become. Looking down, he stared past the dancing figures and focused on the red. That’s the colour of my hair, I want to (.) I want you to know. He somehow wanted to communicate, he didn’t know why or with whom. He glanced up, there was a violet(blue?) sparkle there up there. He felt like someone was winking at him, flirting. He grabbed the railing, separating this floor(stage?) from the crowd down below, and he threw himself over.  
Nobody had seemed to notice him land and if anybody had, they didn’t care too much. Karma started to pace to the bar. The bartender seemed too busy to attend to him, but Karma had shot him a more than charming glance that seemed all he needed to get the bartender’s attention. “Literally give me the most fucked up drink you’ve got”, a few moments later the bartender returned with a large glass,filled with black liquid. Karma paid, left a tip and headed to go past the crowd. The air smelled of spice, a foreign smell. He’d reached a lounge area, where he headed for a couch in the corner. It was stiff and not too comfortable as he sat down. He watched the wall beside him. The building was designed to imitate a baroque-like structure. The walls had stories carved on them of elegant shells, swirls, figures; basking in the red light, absorbing it, feeding off it.  
Karma sunk into the seat as he gulped down the black liquid. Consuming the drink, slowly, he started to regard the decorative of the room more attentively. His gold eyes caught the sight of a statue, an angel; a slim figure, a simple cloth draping from around it’s head to it’s left shoulder and then cascading to hide half of it’s body. Ambiguous because the crotch area was covered, flat chested, modest posture (modest garb) and long elegant hair caressing the bare shoulder and collarbone, kissing the face. The face seemed to be all but modest, eyes creasing to smirk, so attentive they threatened to be intrusive, brow folded to hint amusement and mouth carved in a soft smiling sigh. I can’t see it’s hands. Abusively, the light in the room had gone from red to ice blue. The change the statue had made scared him for a moment: this’s the colour of my hair, I want you to know. It’s gaze is suffocating me. 

Karma gulped down the rest of his drink and made to leave the bar. With the changing of light, the temperature of the room seemed to go down, it smelled of autumn and incense, It’s suffocating me. As he was making his way out, it seemed as if more people were starting to notice him, his intense red hair probably disturbing the calm, still, light blue shade the room had taken up. He darted to his car, got in, started the engine and drove to a small store five minutes away. He bought a cold one litre bottle of water.  
He walked to his car and before he got in he pressed the cool bottle to his face. After a few seconds he opened the bottle and drank it all then and there, without pause.  
From the entrance to the lift, from the lift to his door to open the windows overlooking the city. The breeze brought him back, a fresh, non-constipated smell. He took his shoes, his jacket off, untied his tie, unbuckled his belt, took off his trousers and unbuttoned his shirt. He took a light sheet from a cupboard which he used to cover him as he placed himself on the couch, in front of the windows.  
Karma was tired, and was falling asleep.


	2. Outburst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time Kayano was just too impatient,   
> also a look into the past!

First time that Kayano decided to come on to him was when he walked in on her.

 

{She had been laying in her bed, bored. She thought Nagisa to be asleep, she’d been thinking about him recently; her love for him. [She’d come to like him at school; he was her cover, _I’ll hide behind him so they won’t notice me, so they do not see what I really am._  

However, her cover, her wall ,was what ended up exposing her to their classmates. He pulled her out of her fortress, he ended up rescuing her and she didn’t even regret it, everything turned out ok. From then on she stayed with him, not just for support but because she liked being with him, she was growing fond of his small smile, quiet demeanour and the manic part of him that he did not often display.

Not until Nagisa got into a real fight with Karma did she actually see him hiss. Unsettling that it may have been to her colleagues, to think that the quiet, calm, kind Nagisa could be openly hostile towards anybody, Kayano rejoiced at the prospect of her seeing more of this side of him. To see him open up. Nagisa had a cautious demeanour that was most likely because of his mother being difficult; Kayano liked the idea that maybe he’d drop his defences around her. Even if they went out together a lot (since she’d open up), even if they revealed small secrets and gossiped (Nagisa was shy when gossiping but he didn’t mind listening to her and giving his opinion), even if they enjoyed each others company, even if maybe they were best friends, Kayano could still feel that Nagisa wasn’t completely comfortable to express all and everything.

Straight after what had happened to their beloved teacher, Nagisa had a hopeless look when he sat there in blood _“I did this”_ she thought he wanted to scream, _“I wasted him”._ He sat there looking at his hands.

_I’ll go to him she decided I will be the one to comfort him._

But even as she started towards him, Karma was already there, standing at Nagisa’s side. There, Kayano stopped to observe. She was waiting for the delinquent to mess up. _He doesn’t know how to comfort him, he won’t be able to comfort him._

Karma sat down in the blood and took Nagisa’s hands. “His blood is red like a human’s” Karma said, carefully glancing from Nagisa’s hands to his face.

“It’s because he was human (.5) a human that I’ve put an end to.”

Towards the end of his sentence Nagisa’s voice turned into a hoarse whisper, as if what he had said was taboo. Karma paused to contemplate and then continued:

“Yeah but that’s why I understand why he needed to go (.5) Firstly, he’d killed so many people, because of the lack of humanity, he didn’t care. But then he found our former teacher, he found us and his humanity started to come back (.1) he died out of love for us, he didn’t want to be the reason we wouldn’t be able to grow up, continue to learn, form relationships, get jobs. He probably really wanted that for us. Even in his last moments he was educating his student: he made you do it because he wanted you to see how it feels like to take someones life, to hear, to feel the target refuse to leave, to witness that struggle”

here Nagisa looked up at Karma

“To experience the feeling of the warm blood go stale and lifeless against your palms but the target here was more than willing to leave, so he messed up there (.5) you were right, it’s because he was human, that he willingly let you take his life, that he willingly died.” 

“I killed our teacher”

“I know. You should go home and take a shower.”

When Nagisa nodded in response Karma had told him to wait there, he ran to the classroom and ran back carrying his and Nagisa’s bag. He convinced Nagisa to stand up and led him downhill. Kayano didn’t know if the people on the street stared at the blood on the boys’ clothes, whether Karma had walked Nagisa all the way home, whether or not they spoke along the way, or if Nagisa began to cry when he reached his room.]

 

Kayano had been thinking about all this as she lay in her bed, and then she had heard him walk towards her door. _Should I ask him to stay with me? Should I ask why he’s not sleeping? Should I pretend to be asleep?_ she had thought.

Instead, she put her hand between her legs, slightly shrugging off her underwear and waited for her flatmate to come in before she started panting. When Nagisa had opened the door, he instantly realised what he had walked in on. His head went down, but Kayano could see how red his face had become,

“I-I’m sorry, I jus-just came to see if-”

here he paused and looked at her (she was now sitting up on the bed)

“sorry”

he said finally, scampered away and closed the door.

_He looked at me._

From then on Kayano had decided that it wouldn’t be all that bad if her and Nagisa’s relationship would become more intimate. The second time she decided to be more frank. She didn’t feel guilty because she knew Nagisa was no virgin. From hints of what he’d tell her about his jobs she summarised that he’d previously had to seduce men and women into getting info or making them more comfortable. Apart from doing it professionally, she’d seen him with different men and women, just meeting at cafes, bars, not coming home at night; she liked to imagine Nagisa as being a bit of a slut.

 

They’d been on the couch for a while, Kayano was looking over an assignment and Nagisa was most likely discussing requirements for a job over text. He finished, put his phone away and turned on the TV at the discovery channel. So he sat there watching, the animals running around in his wide blue orbs, the light emitted played on his face. _He really is gorgeous._

She was wearing a short red nightgown made of transparent cloth with elaborate Chinese patterns sewn in with thin dark purple thread, as if to apologise for it’s nudity. _He won’t know what hit him._

She slid her hand beneath her legs, that pressed together. She decided that this time she wouldn’t fake it, she had her fingers inside her, experimenting; she wasn’t voicing her pleasure at first, she was concentrated, attentive, both to reacquaint herself with the feeling but to notice Nagisa’s reaction. _I haven’t done this since college, good to know my priorities were set._ She’d hit a spot which made her “ah!” from the surprise, but Nagisa seemed too engrossed in what was happening on the screen, she rolled her eyes (men!) and continued to rub her finger a bit faster against herself.

She started to get wet, she got on her knees and pressed her body on the couch back and moved her legs further apart. She gave a high-pitched sigh, which got Nagisa’s attention immediately.

He turned his head, then his eyes widened, pupils shrunk. His lips parted slightly, his position didn’t shift, he dared not move. Kayano wanted to laugh at how confused he had looked, but she wasn’t able. She was trembling with pleasure, now moaning openly. She could hear her pulse rising. Her vision was getting blurrier, _I need to get a hold of myself._

The room seemed to move, the light quivering as if it was imitating her. She heard the animals on the screen, she heard her heart thumping against her chest. Some beast screeching, it was in struggle, protesting. In ecstasy, she looked to Nagisa, panting. She saw him all flushed and the bulge coming from his shorts, he was staring at her, watching how her body curved, how she bit the couch, how she clawed at the smooth fabric and how her eyes, glazed with lust, were piercing through him; he looked bewitched.

Her skin was tight on her, she wanted it to peel off, the room was getting hotter, breathing becoming unbearable. It was getting darker and hair felt as if it was entangled, she wanted to wash it. Her legs were wide open, _exposed_. Nagisa was clutching the side of the couch with one hand and the other was in his hair. Even as it was getting darker in the room, heavier, darker, she could still see(feel) his eyes on her.

_Mine, now, right now you are mine._

She started prowling towards him, the room smelled of simple candles, of wax; but the window had given way to a cool breeze that night, Kayano felt as if it gave her life, _power_. Nagisa moved only his head to be able to look at her when she sat herself on him, straddling him. The sound of cars and sirens brought calamity, distrust, distress;

but Nagisa was still looking at her, almost desperate. She winked at him, an archly smile on her lips. All eyes in the room were on her, she had her audience.}

 

Now, when she came home to the special Italian dinner that she was promised, she was happy that Nagisa didn’t show to mind her little `expressions`. He started to get used to them, on the couch, in the shower, under tables. [One time he started laughing mad after Kayano bumped her head on a pan (how’d that happen?), she had to kiss him for about one minute to make him stop giggling like a little girl.]

When she came into the kitchen, she saw his bandaged hand but said nothing, dinner was delicious and Nagisa just seemed to (.) enjoy her company; she smiled at how grateful she was feeling. When Nagisa noticed, he returned her smile, a genuine smile. She felt like crying from relief.

When Nagisa was finishing washing the remaining dishes, she got from her seat and was walking to him, he probably saw her from the corner of his eye but didn’t make to move. She wrapped her arms around his waist to keep him close and rested her head gently on his shoulder. It was cold outside, autumn wind had gushed her face; his skin was warm from working in the kitchen, welcoming her cold face. He smelt clean, like water and soap. When he finished drying his hands, she pressed her cold hands to his abdomen, slim and muscular. He gave a shudder from her cold hands while she hugged him tighter, she moved her hands to his chest, she caressed his collar bone and gave him a quick kiss on the shoulder. She took his left hand and kissed the bandages, she let him go and started towards the bedroom.

“Coming?”

“Sure.”


	3. and and and

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karma sees Nagisa  
> Nagisa and Asano are seeing each other
> 
> and and and oh god is that Karma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the German is wrong, please enjoy!

Light flooded the room as it spill in,

the dust particles bounced off one another, a small repetitive movement. In Karma’s dream, it was different. The dust particles panicked. It was as if they were trying to flee from one another, protesting when they saw that there was more of them than they knew. This movement created waves, tides of visible struggle. The room had nothing in it except the piling of bountiful curtains, fabrics covering the floor of the space, the room.

_And Nagisa._

Nagisa was there, in among the dust, the colour, dancing. He was graceful, but occasionally he would make a mistake in the movement. It looked normal, but Karma could tell when there was a mistake, he knew the routine off by heart. At the mistake Nagisa would laugh whole-heartedly, still dancing but laughing at himself. There was no sound of laughter, but even watching him mime it, happiness filled the room. Nagisa had his hair in a bob-cut, the way Karma had last seen it, the way Kayano had cut it for him. But the hair hung in loose curls, the ringlets bobbing up and down, side to side as Nagisa danced.

It felt as if Karma had been watching him for hours.

Nagisa was wearing white and beige garments, loose, that moved to copy the wind created around him while he was dancing. Suddenly, Nagisa came to a halt, the music had stopped

Nagisa paused in a position: knees slightly bent, legs apart, his arms wide at his sides as if to say: ‘Hey gang! I thought I heard something’. _Fun_ Karma thought,

_Very fun_

_not enough_

_but far **too much.**_

Now Nagisa turned to him, saw him as if he’d just appeared in the room. He urged towards him. Karma was sitting against the wall opposite the source of light (windows?), he was dressed in all red robes and was covered in red feathers, soaking in them. Nagisa sat himself on his knees beside Karma, and laid his head in Karma’s lap. Karma took feathers from around him and started to decorate the curly hair. The Nagisa he knew in high school was small compared to the adult Karma.

“I might break you”

**“Don’t”.**

 

Karma opened his eyes.Waking up was followed by an exhausted sigh: “That was one sexy dream”, he mumbled as-a-matter-of-factly. The couch was comfortable and the wind coming from the opened windows comforted him, _makes me feel alive._

He wasn’t going to work today, he announced whoever he had to answer to in advance. Today was not a day he was going to go to work. As he stretched in bed, he heard the elevator on his floor open and he gave an annoyed grunt as he remembered. He rushed to get some clothes on as he yelled “Rita, kannst du mir ein Moment bitte geben!(kannst du mir ein bischen Zeit bitte geben???)”

“Ah! Herr Kabani, ja, klar!”

Karma, had hired a German lady to look after cleaning once/twice a weak. She liked him because he spoke German, it endeared enough to willingly have her make him dinner occasionally. Karma had started German in high school, Nagisa tutored him.

 

[“Why German?” Nagisa had asked.

“For business, and for picking up hot European chicks.”

“Yeah right”

“(.) Do you know where I could get a tutor”

“me”

“hmm?”

“I’ve been brushing up on my German”

“I don’t want someone who can’t speak it fluently.”

“German literature. I’m brushing up on classic German literature, Karma. I’ve been fluent in German for a year now.”. He’d been spending less time with Nagisa, now that they’d been attending different high schools but Karma was impressed that Nagisa found the time for learning German(without him knowing).

“Any other languages?” he peered down at the boy walking at his side, who returned his gaze and smiled.

“Korean, Chinese, Hindu, English(duh) and I’m studying Yiddish and Italian”.

A nervous laugh came over Karma: “What the fuck for?!”

“For business, and to pick up smoking hot Italian guys”.]

 

 _He was getting further away, I knew he was; but I scared him and before I knew it, he slipped right through my grasp. My tight grasp. **Your suffocating grasp.**_ “

Fertig” he announced, as if he was a boy telling his mother that he was ready for school. He took his bag and opened the door to Rita, who was outside humming a cheerful tune to herself. A cheerful German tune or lullaby, Karma was only slightly curious but he didn’t ask. She said “Thank you” in a funny Japanese accent to which Karma chuckled a “No problem”. _Why would I think lullaby?_

He drove to the centre to get coffee. The sounds of the city annoying, traffic mingling, humming loudly. As he got out of his car he had women on the street whispering. “Look at his car!” “His hair is gorgeous” “OMG, he’s gorgeous!”. Karma rolled his eyes, and thought about all the crude little individual things he could comment on the people not minding their own business. **Irrelevant.**

The whispers continued, the gossip prolonged in his head. _Gorgeous boy_ they said.

_Gorgeous, sweet, smart, funny, kind boy. Beautiful boy, pretty boy. Too pretty for his own sake, too talented for his own sake little blue-haired boy. Blessed boy. **Blessed be that poor boy.**_

_I don’t need gossip, I need secrets, dirty little ugly secrets._

When _he_ had divulged his secrets, Karma knew how he was going to hold his grip, tight so **nothing** could get through. These secrets had made _him_ self-conscious, Karma was there **feeding him, fuelling him.** But he had a weakness. He was weak towards _him_. _He_ really knew how to play Karma.

 _I’m paranoid_ Karma had always told himself, but there was something there; nagging:

_you’ve got the right of it._

 

He was walking along with the crowd, stopped at a pedestrian walk-way to cross the boulevard. It was cold outside, the autumn giving him sweet kisses all over his face; he really wished it wasn’t so insistent. He waited for the red to turn green, his brown coat was not able to keep the cold from his face or his hands.

Almost harshly, red transferred to green and the instant it did Karma was more than happy to cross. _The fuck did it take so long, they need to get it fixed._ As he was crossing the busy boulevard, Karma saw a dog,

a black dog, crossing in the opposite direction; it looked like it was staring at Karma.

“Where’s your owner” Karma whispered and the dog glanced back, then looked back at Karma and shook it’s head.

As he opened the door to the cafe, Karma was relieved by the warmth that waited for him inside and he went to order. He sat on a lone couch in the corner and took a sip of the coffee, bitter inside his mouth; it worked to wake him up. Diligent. Diligent

enough to notice the young man with the oddly coloured long hair walk into the cafe. Karma’s heart stopped when he saw

Nagisa coming into the cafe, speaking some foreign language to some foreign guy. He saw his face, it clearly was Nagisa. Karma’s head was ringing with the sound of _his_ voice, _his_ smile _his_ laughter. He’d been searching for Nagisa with help of connections he had with the government and international parties, but without success. But he decides that one morning he’s gonna get coffee and the person he’s been frantically looking for casually strolls in, with a suspicious man.

 _Calm, calm down._ Karma slowed down his breathing and made sure to scooch down the other side of the couch, out of the view of most of the cafe. Nagisa and the man sat down near the windows, the seats closest to the exit. And most importantly, somewhere Karma could see them. Nagisa was wearing an orange pulover that covered his neck, his hair was tucked into it and made it look as he had it cut into a bob from afar, _he let his hair grow._

He was also wearing tight black pants, showing off his skinny (but well formed legs) and sporting some harsh brown boots that looked the type he used to wear during P.E at school. Nagisa was looking down at his phone, his eyelashes brushed over his fixed eyes, he was concentrating, however Nagisa responded to everything the man said in a low voice that was strongly accented by an unknown language. He was sitting cross-legged, he had long, pale fingers playing the tastatures on his phone. If anything, Nagisa looked elegant; his his right arm went to the back to his neck as he pulled his hair from the pulover to cascade behind the back of his chair. Nagisa smiled at something the man said and leaned to put his elbows on the smaller table; the man mirrored his action. To anybody that was watching it looked as if the two were flirting, Nagisa said something in a soft sweet murmur that made the man go beat red.

Karma didn’t blame him, Nagisa was strangely charming. Even as he entered he had caught the attention of most of the men and some women in the cafe. Every time he laughed or giggled Karma saw heads would turn to glimpse at him. _Why can’t we be here **alone**. I found you, so why can’t I see you, why can’t you smile for me? **Why won’t you see me?**_

The man said something that got Nagisa to blush and Karma rolled his eyes. Karma caught Nagisa’s eyes dart to the street and to the windows of the opposite building whenever Whatshisface wasn’t paying attention. After some time Stupidface got up, put his coat on and waved Nagisa goodbye, who gazed after the foreigner through the window as he crossed the street and got into an expensive looking car that Karma didn’t notice to be there previously.

Nagisa took a sip of his coffee and he looked back at his phone. When he found he hadn’t any coffee left, Nagisa snarled. At this, Karma chuckled, _bad day?_

Nagisa was slipping into a different attitude, he was obviously annoyed at whoever was on the other side of their conversation; Nagisa was rocking on his chair, and when he looked closely, Karma was surprised to find that Nagisa was balancing himself without the support of the table. Nagisa was balancing himself on the two hind legs of the chair, hardly even moving his legs, while punching the buttons on his phone aggressively, as if it was just standing on one leg.

Karma saw violet circles underneath his eyes. Nagisa glared at a window on the opposite building. Karma got up (coffee in hand, don’t forget the coffee) and walked over to Nagisa, he stopped in front of the table. Nagisa up close is so much better than Nagisa from afar. It was funny watching him stress out, he started muttering to himself: “Asano you little…”.

Karma remembered the blond in his year, they went to the same school; the one with the daddy issues.

Nagisa’s hand went through his hair, playing with the individual strands. Karma thought of how nice it would be to burry his face in Nagisa’s hair. “Hey, I have nothing against having coffee with strangers, but I’m trying to deal with someone right now, if you want the chair across from me you can take it. Nice shoes by the way.”

It felt so much better hearing Nagisa speak Japanese. Karma couldn’t help but smirk as he replied to him, his former class mate, his friend for the first time in years: “Thanks, they were really expensive”.

Nagisa’s eyes darted up, _he recognises my voice._

The swinging on the chair stopped and the world went on hold as he fell backwards, his eyes fixed on Karma. **_He’s looking at me._** Karma caught the back of the chair and brought Nagisa’s fall to halt, all without spilling his coffee. His mouth was agape, Karma’s arm near his head, clutching the chair. Before Karma had time to say something, anything, to respond, Nagisa sighed and let his head rest on Karma’s arm.

Calm before the storm.

He then felt pain, pain in his lower right leg, he hadn’t the time to curse that Nagisa got under his arm and made a run for it. Karma stood there for a fraction of a second in astonishment before darting after the culprit.

He’d tried to blend into the crowd but his hair gave him away, I see you, see you far too clearly. Nagisa, he was slithering, passing the people, hardly noticing him passing them by, invisible. Karma on the other hand was pushing through the crowd shouting at people to get out of his way, he was stark, obvious. He was to say, mildly annoyed. He can’t say for sure that Nagisa had done this purposely or just didn’t know how to react to him, but he’d challenged Karma nonetheless.

He ran and ran and at some point he saw the black dog, hound running beside him, towards Nagisa, same target. All was franctic, his breathing, his mentality. The pace is rising, at which he is running, the beating of his heart. But who’s? The hound was silent, his eyes neutral despite the gold calamic tint that was present, buried deep but noticeable.

The autumn breeze that showed immense affection earlier, turned to taunt him, slapping his face; rejecting and pushing him away. All the individual ruckus was there surrounding them, it formed the situation, predicted what was to occur, even though it was irrelevant. All that mattered was getting to him, and anyone unfortunate enough to be in Karma’s path would suffer the consequence of being shoved roughly into the street. They were dancing, a repetitive routine,

the black shadow next to Karma a witness, the only witness. Nagisa was preforming acrobatics, avoiding obstacles artistically, as it seemed. In an instant Nagisa supported himself with his right arm as he fell to the ground, twisted his body and kicked a trash can that obstructed Karma’s path as Nagisa bought time to run across the street, avoiding cars and jumping across their hoods. As he got safely to the other side, he turned, to see if Karma would admit defeat.

_Yeah fucking right._

 

 

 

Nagisa was shocked,to find that

his former schoolmate Asano had sent him a text thirty seconds ago, to meet up; at an hour which was; very unacceptable.

 

[“Nagisa”

“(.5)yes?”, Nagisa was sitting at his desk re-writing his notes at break. When he heard the familiar voice he ceased all activity and stared towards the front of the classroom as he asked himself _why would the charming Asano Gakushu want to be speaking with me? Is the answer written on the blackboard? Seems not; pity._

“What is it, can I help you with something?” Asano had ended up in the same high school as Nagisa, which was axed heavily on a more cultural profile. He heard it was because the blonde wanted to be a lawyer. _Maybe he wants to be a teacher_.

“Why are you so polite? I gave you and your classmates hell you know”

He could’ve just said `your class`, but he didn’t, _he separated me from them._

“You’re getting higher grades than me in linguistics, psychology and MFL.” _Could the rest of class E not have done that?_

Nagisa looked from the blackboard to look at Asano. Two years since Nagisa started high school and from the seeing Asano at the start of year ceremony, he decided to avoid the blond, he wanted no more unnecessary conflict between them. The gods had frowned upon Nagisa the next year and decided to put them in the same class, however Nagisa persevered and successfully avoided him, up until this moment. _You, mister have pretty eyes._

“Was the blackboard that interesting, sorry to have to interrupt your sight, I’ll only be a minute or two, promise” Asano smirked politely.

 _Stick and stones may break my bones, but my disinterest in whatever you want to communicate reminds me I have the power to terminate the conversation._ Nagisa sighed, rested his head on the desk between his outstretched arms. I should’ve gotten more sleep.

“What do you want from me?” he asked, exhausted when he thought of the answer his classmate would give him.

“How?”

“What do you mean?” it came out sounding impatient, a complaint.

“How are you besting me?”

Nagisa chuckled before he gave his answer, Asano stared at him, surprised.

“Maybe it’s because I stare at the blackboard more often than you do.”]

 

Nagisa groaned as he got off the couch, his back sore. Kayano was the only person who would make him leave the room after sex, Nagisa couldn’t fall asleep so he went to watch TV and eventually he dozed off. _Is it so I don’t see her when she’s asleep? When she’s most vulnerable?_ He turned off the TV as went to get dressed.

He pulled on some black skinny jeans and a thick pink sweater, grabbed the closest scarf and quickly left the apartment to meet Asano.

“Where are we going.”

“The Kindergarten.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got some poems to comment on that I left there.”

“Oh(.) ok.”.

 

The interior of the kindergarten warm, juxtaposing with the harsh cold outside. The walls were painted pale yellow and were decorated with lively coloured drawings. The lights were off. On the wall opposite the entrance was a pin-board that had pictures of children and their names labeled neatly, side by side, hazy in the dark; the faces were hazy.

All the children were smiling; kindergarten or day-care, it was a place were children came, played learned how to sing, sing the alphabet. A place were they would become more confident with expressing themselves, Nagisa knew. He saw glass-crafted blue butterflies hanging from the ceiling, where he’d place them there when the children asked for his help, Nagisa smiled.

He went to the centre of the room and sat down cross-legged and starred up, through the ceiling, through the butterflies, past the starry sky and then glimpsed the void in front of him. He could do this, make his mind go blank,

it requires concentration and quiet. It was dark in the room and Nagisa felt terrified and alone and cold and then he felt intrigued. The moonlight from a window shone on one of the still creatures hanging, it reflected. It touched, glittered on his face. _It feels like it’s winking at me, I am being courted by a higher power._

The air was felt closed(limited) and smelt neutral. Nagisa snatched a glimpse of the endarkened faces on the pin-board,

_this can not be natural,_

_I shouldn’t be here._ He felt suffocated,

he couldn’t breath. Nagisa did not notice it, but Asano had come in the room and waited in the doorway. He saw the slim figure in the middle of the room, his chest moving up and down in a serene motion. Asano walked and opened the window Nagisa was facing and the cold touched his long hair and pale face in the moonlight.

“Do you want a glass of water?”

“Yes (.) please”

“The works are on the desk there, get started.”

“Yes sir.” Nagisa started reading the poems the children wrote, most of them were nonsense just for the sake to be able to rhyme. Nagisa wrote one comment of improvement on each of them, corrected grammatical mistakes and wrote one thing he liked about the poem. He picked up the next poem that was written in a sparkly silver gel pen, on orange paper.

 

‘I want to be king

a king of everything. Not just Japan, all the world! I banished

all the people, because they weren’t good enough for me, king of everything.

It’s always afternoon in my kingdom, and everyone is always happy

because they always get to eat when and what the want. But one day a group of animals will come and ask me to bring back the people. I say no, and they will get

angry.

 

and and and I will get

angry

and banish the animals as well because they were not good enough

not good enough for me,

the king of everything.’

 

Asano came into the room with a glass of water in one hand and in the other he was holding a bowl with grapes, which he handed both to Nagisa. Nagisa handed him the poem as he plucked grapes from a bunch and took a sip of water. Asano smiled. “He asked for a dictionary to correct all his mistakes, then he wrote it out nicely on another paper. Even though it was just a quick task, he took it seriously.”

“Did he know what he was writing about?” 

“Yeah, he said he wanted (.) to write about a persona who is lonely, but doesn’t know it.”

“(.5) is he ok?”

 

“Yeah; just creative.”

 

“Do you think he wrote it about you?”

 

Asano looked surprised. And for a moment, considered the idea, looking down at the poem. Then he looked to Nagisa, assessing. _You really has the most wonderful eyes._

 

 

“He could have written it about you, you know.” He crouched down where Nagisa was sitting on the floor at the table, papers scattered and resisted the wind trying to blow them off.

“Aren’t you lonely?”. Nagisa looked at him, at his deep violet eyes and felt like he was drowning in an immense pool. He couldn’t move.

“I (.9) don’t know.”

Asano sat down next to Nagisa and wove his fingers through the blue strands and buried his face in Nagisa chest, feeling under the soft pink sweater with his cold hands. Nagisa’s abdomen tensed as Asano caressed his stomach, his right hand moving to the back of his neck. **Stop.**

Nagisa gasped when the fingers brushed the back of his neck. Asano smiled and lifted his head to trail kisses from Nagisa’s collarbone to his jaw-bone, biting the skin and rejoicing to see that the skin flushed pink and violet spots were left where he sucked, these varnished the pale skin.

Nagisa snatched his face and kissed, Asano’s mouth opened, the kiss was getting heavier. Their teeth clacked against each other, then Nagisa would giggle and Asano tugged his hair so he stopped. Asano felt hot, all he wanted to do, to eat Nagisa whole. He forced Nagisa’s shirt off,

the cold air diffused quickly through the room and the smaller male’s skin was freckled with goosebumps, his nipples red, his eyes azure, burning with lust. His hair swooshing uncontrollably, tangled by the wind, the current formed in the room.

Asano went to close the lights.

 

As light left, the darkness scattered to emphasise the flicker of the moonlight on the butterflies hanging from the ceiling once more. Obscure shadows moved across Nagisa’s bare chest and face and and and the room was quiet.

 

Nagisa woke the next morning in a large bed, draped with plain white sheets. Heavy, tired, didn’t get all that much sleep last night. Groggy, Nagisa got up and put his clothes on, took his keys. He didn’t bother to see if Asano locked the door or not, so he got out through the window. Asano had the apartment on the fifth floor, so Nagisa put on a little circus show getting down to the pathway.

He’d been to the apartment (Kayano was out) and left to a meeting he had with a future client. The Indonesian, was annoying and flirtatious. Saying things that Nagisa was struggling not to roll his eyes at. Asano was sending him annoying texts

and and and

Nagisa could swear he was being watched

and

there’s this guy just standing there

and and

 

oh god is that Karma.


	4. Rare Domestics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karma catches up with Nagisa, and both of them are at a loss of words.
> 
> Nagisa goes to Asano and Kayano for consolation, but why is it that he feels only completely safe when he is in Karma's embrace?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!*I forgot to put this earlier but this chapter and the next will contain mentions and descriptions(kinda) of child abuse so I'll put a star thingy to mark that.!!

As Karma was going to throw himself into the sea of cars to go after him, Nagisa stopped.

Once they made eye contact from one side of the street to the other, Nagisa gestured at the pedestrian crossing, where Karma saw the black dog first, and started walking casually towards it. Karma did the same, walking parallel the blue-haired young man. His eyes didn’t leave Nagisa.

Nagisa leaned on a pole and looked at his nails while waiting for the light to turn green. When it did Karma started crossing normally, but his pace got more urgent the closer he got to Nagisa. Still there, Nagisa looks briefly at Karma then goes back at examining his fingers, his hands and his nails. His left hand is wrapped in bandages.

Karma wants to touch him, to talk to him, but it’s odd and he’s scared to do so.

He’s staring at him and getting it in his head that this is really Nagisa, he really is here. He doesn’t know what to do next and so they stand there in complete silence, Karma still staring in wonderment at Nagisa, who starts to fidget.

It seems like an eternity has passed, but it’s still cold outside and the wind is still blowing. Nagisa’s cheeks, nose, skin beaten by the cold; they’ve stood here for some time and it looks as if the frost was starting to settle on the long blue hair.

 

Nagisa looked up at Karma, his eyes moved to take in the sight before him; then he smiled.  _What is he thinking?_ Karma’s expression might have looked grim, exhausted, bewildered but all he wanted to do was sit the smaller male in front of him down and ask: what’s inside that head of your’s?

The expression glued to Karma’s face was that of plain curiosity. They stood like that for a few minutes, the only two people relevant, staring at each other. Upon Karma, came the urge to smile back, _it’s all fine, we’re fine. **But it isn’t, it wasn’t**._ What he did, to just pick up and leave without telling anyone, without an explanation. It really was quite inexcusable.

Karma made to grab Nagisa’s arm, but as he reached out, he suddenly had no feeling in his left hand and wrist. Nagisa stared at Karma’s limp hand and scrunched up his nose.

“Sorry, that was a reflex.”

Karma grabbed Nagisa with his other arm and dragged him to his car. People were staring, women gave worried glances and one or two men looked like they’d rip Karma’s throat out. His face expressionless, he opened the door to the passenger seat and basically shoved Nagisa inside. The fact that he didn’t make a run for it while Karma got to his seat was reassuring, but Karma still locked the door once he started the engine.

 

“If I haven’t fled up until now, I doubt I’m going to hurl myself from the car while you’re driving”

Karma responded quietly: “I’m taking no chances”.

 

 

 

{Karma was waiting outside the high school Nagisa attended, by the gate. Asano was with him when they came out, Nagisa was listening. Nodding his head at whatever he was saying. Asano noticed Karma, and nudged to direct the smaller teen’s attention. Nagisa excused himself and hurried to the red-head’s side.

“Hey”

“Hi; what were you two talk about?”

“He offered to tutor me in math and science.”

Karma had wrapped his arm around Nagisa’s shoulders as they walked, his grip tightened. “You have me for that.”

“That’s what I told him.”

 

Karma recalled the look the blonde gave him, and grinned.

“That’s great. Do you wanna get some sweets for our date.”

“Study session (0.1), sure. Let’s go to that place with the coffee that you like, they have good eclairs.”

 

It was dark, late. They were leaning against a tree,

Nagisa was reading some German children’s story to Karma, who stopped paying attention a while back. The long words rolled casually from Nagisa’s tongue; the intonation was foreign,

the park that was now ten minutes ago filled with people, families, was pitch black and the sounds of crickets loud in the background. Somehow his coffee was still hot

and bitter,

the eclair

too sweet

for his liking. Nagisa stopped reading and Karma asked him why. He replied, saying that he couldn’t see. They stayed like that; Karma could feel the haggard surface of the bark on his back through his clothes. The night wind chilled him and as he breathed it in, there was a lingering scent.

It resembled the pungent smell of poison, something toxic.

He placed his hand on Nagisa’s shoulder and seeing that the touch was not undesired, slid his arm to rest on both shoulders. He felt high, the florescent lights illuminating the street in the distance seemed to morph into these terrific faces, **horrific**.

Karma smiled as he felt his body get lighter, his skin slightly tight. Taking him over, what was taking him over?

 

His head was buzzing with the sounds surrounding them, the volume kept increasing. The music was getting louder and the adrenaline provided by the rhythmic beat (from?) made him want to make abrupt movement, **harsh** and **haggard** movement.

Nagisa’s breathing was standard, static, soundly.

 

“Hey Nagisa, let’s fight.” His grip around the small shoulders tightened.

 

 

Nagisa looked at Karma who was looming over him, his face was dark in the night, however he could see a hidden glint in the golden eyes, even if there was no light significant enough to provide it. The red-read’s tone was dangerous.

The mood, the change in wavelength was so sudden and it took Nagisa by surprise; he was left with a salty taste in his mouth before choosing his answer.

“Do you have a knife on you? I’d feel more comfortable fighting with a knife.”.

 

To his surprise, Karma pulled a knife out of his schoolbag, handing it to him. blade first.

Nagisa picked it in between his thumb and index finger, flicking it in the air to spin once and caught the handle. He liked how the grip felt. He was reluctant to fight with Karma seeing how he always ended up sore and bruised after their rare domestics.

He did a few tricks with the knife, spinning it in between his fingers, it was light. Even though heavier blades seemed to have more presence when he wielded them, he warmed to the idea of attacking with something less noticeable. And a small smile graced his features.

 

 

Karma was impatient for a response, Nagisa tested the weapon and as the moon shone through the clouds plotted in the sky, Karma saw a smile that coaxed Nagisa’s sweet mouth. It made him blossom with delight, pleasure.

“Now” Karma demanded.

Nagisa stood up and walked a few meters away from the tree, a wide space before him. His smile was motioning for Karma to join him, to stand opposite him. They were facing each other. Some leaves on the grass were scattering off, fleeing from the duel.

Karma’s state of mind was stark, obvious; painted across his entire body, stance, expression. And even though his opponent was supposed to be

the opposite, invisible, unreadable, unnoticed, Karma liked to believe he knew exactly what was happening in Nagisa’s head when the blue haired boy attempted to slash his neck. With a real blade.}

 

 

 

Nagisa didn’t say anything in the car, he dared not. Karma was seeping with irritation, now was not the time to try to calm him. Instead, he thought of his mother.

 

Hiromi Shiota was no longer part of his life. If she could grasp the chance to manipulate him, even now, she would. Nagisa endured for years. At first it was just something that was part of his life; mother’s ideals not hurtful but they were always there.

As he grew, he felt nagged by her. No direct threat, but he grew uncomfortable with every passing day. He knew that she had that mindset constantly, if it were ever to be addressed, his mother was ready to put him in his place: her daughter.

He became self-conscious, his lack in confidence in himself, insecurity about his gender. It dared to consume him. Self hate and self loathing were his first reactions *after his mother became more insistent,* but it never proved too much of a problem.

At school, he’d found his worth. To the people around him: his father, Karasuma, Irina, his alien teacher, his classmates and close friends, he was not worthless.

But his mother wouldn’t stop persisting with her desire to mould him after her plan. A fear of her grew in him, he feared his own mother. Skilled in assassination, but he still couldn’t hurt her; he didn’t know how to react.

 

Karma’s bad behaviour inspired, and Nagisa pushed his luck with small rebellions against his mother once high school started.

Small things like ignoring her comments were natural to him, but he started to distance himself when she came to touch him.

*He avoided all physical contact; when he saw that his mother would become suspect of him, he did the exact opposite. Sweet hugs, words and simple, idle chats that took her by surprise were used to distract from his separation from her. He could control her better.

Manipulation was what she had used to keep him in her grasp, something familiar. But she hardly noticed it when she was the one being moulded. He couldn’t manipulate her, but even the slightest waver in her wavelength told Nagisa what was coming and he was able to avoid conflict with a small, gentle smile.* He played, he circumvented strong emotions, both mother's and child’s.

But an outburst was always possible.

*He always kept it at arm’s length, but still too close for his liking. If she would get upset, it would all come to hit him in the face. And that’s what happened.*

 

 

 

{It was bold cutting his hair, seeing that his mother was obsessed with keeping it long. He was anxious throughout the whole procedure but it was reassuring to have Kayano cutting it, and Karma there with him. Nobody really said anything but there was a calming atmosphere in the room, the floor littered by blue tuffs of hair. Just below his chin, a bob cut was still a little too long for a guy but it angered his mother all the same.

He planned to have a quiet explanation ready, *and he thought that he could keep any outburst under control. However, all the screaming made him hesitate in finding his speech.*

Explanations were inaudible, caught in his throat and retorts were mumbled.

 

*It wasn’t the first time she hit him, but it hurt nonetheless. The bruises pulsated as he went to bed that night, bundling himself in the blankets for comfort.*

 

He had to wear a long-sleeved shirt to school the next day. When Asano came to ask him about a poem by this French guy, the worried look the blonde gave Nagisa made him want to giggle.

Asano quickly glanced away and only brought it up later when Nagisa was getting his things packed for home. He asks two questions.

“Do you want me to tell someone?”.

“No”

“Does it hurt?”.

“No”

Nagisa thought about both his answers. He wanted to tell someone, he wanted people to know. How horrible his mother is, how terrifying and disgusting abuse is. How you can’t just tell people about it, how you go on living life knowing what has happened to you, what’s going to happen to you:

how he lies to himself and smiles.

How he stares at the kitchen knife when his mother is pulling his hair with affection,

how he stares at the kitchen knife when his mother is brushing his hair with animosity.

And yes it does hurt, the area above his left eye is throbbing.

It hurts when he blinks, when he laughs.

 

 **It hurts** when Asano reaches out to sheepishly caress the violet skin that blanches upon light pressure the blonde’s long fingers apply. They were the only ones in the classroom and Asano pressed his lips briefly to the injured area. Nagisa’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Your hair looks nice like this as well.”

“Oh. (.5) Ok.Thank you. Ok.”

He can’t make out the look Asano gives him, but he feels heavy under the intensity of the stare. He’s felt this way many times before: he felt cornered. And even though Asano hadn’t undergone any intensive assassin training, Nagisa’s guard is up.

But he doesn’t attempt to flee, his toes aren’t even pointing towards the door. He is being cornered by something so hungry and yet he doesn’t flee, hide or attack. He just stands there, looking back at the animal in front of him.

 

“That is probably the only compassionate gesture that the likes of you will ever receive from me; cherish it.”

Nagisa roles his eyes: “Oh, bite me, bitch.”

So Asano does just that.

 

His face is grabbed and before he could react, Nagisa feels pain itch up his jawbone. Asano pulls back, but hands are still wrapped around his face. Nagisa can’t close his gaping mouth.

“You bit me.” His features confused, his incredulous tone criticising his classmate’s audacity.

“You asked me to.”.

There was a small pause that was filled by Nagisa’s whispered question: “Would you do it again if I asked you to?”.

 

He was pulled in by his collar, Asano loosened his tie and bit his collarbone, hard. Nagisa yelps and covers his mouth realising they’re in a public place, alone in an empty classroom. Teeth still sunk in skin, Asano slides the books and bag aside and places Nagisa on his own desk, their bodies pinned together. His face grows hot as the blonde’s hands pull his hair, his lips sucking at his neck.

The mouth detaches from him and Nagisa attempts to regain his breath as Asano shuts the blinds of the windows and locks the door.

Nagisa doesn’t know why he has the key. It’s dark and he can feel something approaching, the footsteps surprisingly quiet. He swears that violet eyes gleam in the dark and he can feel the hot gaze imposing on him. They kiss, Nagisa wraps his legs around the other’s hips, Asano grabs his waist and stands up. Nagisa tenses at the movement, their positions are reversed with Asano sitting on desk, Nagisa straddling him.

His tongue feels swollen, his mouth wet with saliva and Asano is biting his lower lip. Not knowing what else to do with his hands, he untucks the back of blondie’s shirt from his trousers to trace his fingers along tensed muscle.

He feels hands go from his waste to grip his hips, to push him forward. There is something coiling in his lower abdomen. He digs his nail into Asano’s shoulders as he feels himself get hard.

 

 

 **It hurts** to see how Kayano’s eyes sting red as she sobs into his shoulders.

“It’s my fault (.) it’s a aa a ahi’m so sorry Nagisa.”.

She asked him to come over, her apartment was cold and he didn’t know why he came. He told himself that he’d refuse to meet with her, but when she called he didn’t say no; he complied without hesitation.

He looked at the shaking body in his arms and shivered as he considered the impact that she had on him. He was griped in her hold. She took his head, held his face close to her bosom and placed her lips to kiss the top of his head.

Little tear droplets dribbled on his scalp. She smelt faintly of some kind of body spray, popular with girls their age. It’s scent of honey: Nagisa felt sticky, glued to her body.

He didn’t make to move, he hated to admit it, but recently he began to fear that he was becoming emotionally insensitive. Seeing that he craved to be consoled was a comfort to him.

It was raining outside, it should’ve made the room stuffy, humid. Instead ,it was just cold, frigid. He didn’t know where to put his hands, so he covered his face with them. Their position must’ve looked like a scene depicted on an icon, a familiar painting: a poor soul howling in grief and a gentle companion to comfort their suffering.

His palms were black against his face. He pulled them a few centimetres away to look at them. Fingers were not bony and defined, but long and….maybe elegant. Pale. He feared they'd turn blue like the veins visible under the transparent skin around his wrists. Small veins that squirmed, branched to the tip of his fingers.

She stopped crying and Nagisa fell asleep in that position.

When he woke, he was alone on the couch with a thick blanket tucked around him. It was dark, he made out he sound of rain slapping concrete outside. The air around him was still icy, his breathing a bit rugged. _Was I having a bad dream?_

 

 

 **It hurts** when Karma throws an apple at his face while he was out grocery shopping. There was no milk, so he needed to get some. At their local convenience store, the brand his mother wanted wasn’t supplied, so he needed to go a bit further to a larger supermarket.

He entered and the warm air of food, vegetable ,fruits and dairy hit him. It was pleasant and he stood there in the entrance near the dried fruits for a moment before continuing.

While glancing at the cheeses, he spotted a blazing red from the corner of his eyes. He turned to see what it came from, but it wasn’t there anymore. He bent down to look at the milk, and reached his hand for the one he wanted. And then it hit him. An apple. He looked down at the fruit guilty.

He turned around to see who threw but there was nobody there. He cursed troublesome teenagers before turning back around to find just that: Akabane Karma.

 

Nagisa had been actively avoiding him since the domestic with his mother. Karma’s expression was that of annoyance, his mouth opened to most likely demand an explanation, but he stopped when he got a good look at Nagisa. His bruise near his eye didn’t look as terrible as it did a few days ago, it was now more yellow. Karma’s eyes softened considerably. He closened himself and hovered his lips directly beside Nagisa’s ear.

“We’re going on a walk.” he declared in a harsh whisper, his low demand sounding raspy.

 

Karma bought the milk for him, but had Nagisa carry his plastic bag of groceries in return. It was alright seeing as Karma had only gotten a bag of oranges, one currently in the delinquent’s hand, mouth. Karma’s pace became slower until he stopped in front of a bench, Nagisa stopped beside him.

“Stop. Sit down.”.

Nagisa complied. He placed himself in the middle of the bench; taking up more space can make you look more formidable.

Karma turned to face him and Nagisa was met with a breath-taking sight.

 

It was spring time, transitioning to fall; the wind is livelier than it was in the day time. The sun was beginning to set.

Low in the sky, were playful yellows, not accustomed to the forthcoming darkness. Virgin colours dancing lightly in the shallow sky.

Higher towards the heavens, the sky was threatening to become darker, it was impatient. Starting with a calm dark lavender, but then having stark, harsh strokes of navy blue painted seen if you tilt your head back enough.

That was up and down, but Nagisa was making his way slowly towards the centre of his view. He let himself be distracted by the blues still lingering further from the main attraction.

It was light, pale baby blue and Nagisa marvelled at how it warded off attacks from the foreign hues, unearthly light.

But in the end, all of it’s resistance was for naught, it was engulfed by something bigger, and Nagisa’s gaze was snatched to look at the centre stage, the spectacle highlight.

It was imposing, a strong, willed glow, all pinks and oranges that could choke you. Streaks of light beamed from the middle, but Nagisa couldn’t see the star that provided for light on earth. Instead, there was the understudy. Someone casted in order to relay a performance close to that of the lead's.

However Karma outright stole the show.

His hair was ablaze, his t-shirt and shorts revealed tanned skin that absorbed the light surrounding him. A halo of sunlight surrounded his head, a boy blessed by god.

The stare he cast on Nagisa was terrifying, the blue hair teen realised that in that moment he’d do absolutely anything Karma asked of him, the unspeakable, the unreasonable. He’d do it, he wouldn’t disobey. He’d submit himself entirely. Eyes shimmered gold, a red glare along the side of the iris. Karma leaned closer to bend down to be eye level with Nagisa. He cupped his face, fingers brushing against strands of blue in the process.

“Anywhere else?”

he asked as his finger brushed the sore spot near his eye, and Nagisa felt tears swell up in his eyes.

“My arms, my back.”. He said it, and now they stood there in silence. Nagisa thought that Karma might just get up and leave, but he made no move to do so. Instead, he sat right next to Nagisa on the bench, their thighs pressing together. He smelt of oranges and it was a wonderful smell. “I’m going to kill her.”. The red head said in a soft voice, murmured into the other’s ear. His voice sounded strained by pain and Nagisa leaned over and let himself cry in his friend’s arms.}


	5. Children and Flora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flowers and gardens and sleepy people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how this one is, there also might be some mistakes:) I like Asano and Nagisa having a very healthy, peaceful relationship, while(as you will see), Kayano and Nagisa have a bad thing going on.  
> Please comment I am lonely.

Nagisa wasn’t saying anything, and his eyes were unfocused, seemed to be anywhere but here, right next to Karma. Which was infuriating, the fact that the person that is constantly there in your thoughts, the person you are obsessing over in this very moment of exaggerated panic (on your behalf at least) just seems to not just ignore, but doesn’t pay any attention to you whatsoever. Karma gets frustrated, annoyed at how bothered he really is. It shows on his face, which he feels start to warm. So caught up in the tides of his emotions, he fails to take note of the red light ahead before Nagisa snaps him back to reality; telling him that he’d better stop if he doesn’t want to pay repair costs (from collision with a car holding priority) and Karma hits the brakes.

It’s odd now that the car isn’t in motion, their situation seemed to become polished clear to Nagisa once more, Karma can see it on his face when he steals a glance. But he’s caught in the act and Nagisa has engulfed his sight: blue eyes, blue hair; somehow it seems silly that he should ever had looked somewhere else. He feels lightened. It was only natural that his being should be attracted to the youth sitting by his side, he needn’t feel shame if his thought process should bring him back to Nagisa.

But then he comes back to his senses, trying his best to give his companion a harsh, stern glare; how easily he’s pulled to security just at the sight of him takes Karma aback, it is absurd. He turns his attention back to the traffic light which turns green, pressured by his impatience (no doubt). He tries to ignore Nagisa, which is becoming impossible.

Blue eyes are stuck to his frame, as if taking note of everything he’s missed out on the past few years. The fights with dubious gang men Karma played tricks on, the short-lived military training to relieve stress, the caresses of one-nightstands that were always not enough; tears that’d welled up in his eyes in frustration, confusion; strong, fit body from morning runs, gym-sessions to ease him of unnecessary thoughts, memories (most definitely not of Nagisa). All of this information taken in by big, blue eyes, scorching on his body.

 

His nerves, quieted and he found courage: “See anything you like?”, he said with a grin, not necessarily insincere.

“Mhm” Nagisa hummed softly in response.His answer seemed strained by fatigue and Karma recalled prominent dark folds under the young man’s eyes.

 

 

Somehow, the idea of Nagisa not getting enough sleep irritated him. Something in his head buzzed unpleasantly:

Nagisa started with getting less sleep in high-school, nights when his mother pestered him and Sunday mornings spent with Kayano seemed to leave him exaggeratedly drained. On weekend afternoons, Karma would find Nagisa asking to come in and bundle on his sofa. Karma welcomed the company, he’d linger long around the living-room where the other dozed and gazed a face grateful for rest. It became a ritual visit and Karma enjoyed garbing his friend in heaps of soft blankets and thick duvets. Once, they ended up cuddling and Karma struggled not to smother Nagisa closer to him; the smell of cucumber and green-tea body-wash lulled him to sleep, and as he advanced slowly to slumber, the exhaust (which oddly resembled unease, fear) on Nagisa’s sleeping face caused terrible dreams and post-sleep muscular ache.

 

The buzzing in his head spread to a static around them in the absence of speech.

Karma glanced to the passenger seat, and saw that Nagisa, sat sideways, burrowed himself into the back of the seat.

“What did you _do_ last night?”, it came out quiet as a whisper, worryingly affectionate. He observed as a faint pink brushed cheeks under long eyelashes that fluttered, eyes did not open.

“Stuff”, Nagisa whispered back. Small voice seemed yearning, glossed with want?

 

 

Karma stopped the car as they came to a large, gated living complex, private and expensive. He got out the car and even though he stopped a few moments outside his door in wait for Nagisa to join him, something told him that he’d wait a while if he didn’t take action. He walked to the other side of the car and opened the passenger door. There sat Nagisa, sinking in his seat, grumpy and ill-disposed.

“Carry me.” he whined.

“Excuse me?”

“My hips hurt and I’m tired from my night-prowls”, at this Karma raised an eyebrow but Nagisa continued,

“I refuse to be kidnapped and then use my own legs to get me to a place where captivity awaits.” he added, the dramatisation washed out of the complaint and it sounded like more of a plea.

As Nagisa opened his mouth to leave way for more retorts, Karma lifted him up: one arm lifted him by the knees, while the the other supported the small back. Nagisa’s eyes widened and his shoulders tensed. Karma felt disappointed at the suspect reaction but felt a warmness fill him when muscles relaxed in his grasp. Nagisa let his head rest on Karma’s shoulder.

“Do not drop me” he mumbled.

“I wouldn’t dare”, a devilish grin plastered on his face, he slammed the door closed with his foot as he walked towards the apartment complex.

 

 

Karma feigned at dropping him three times, which resulted in Nagisa jolting awake each time. It all seemed too familiar, as if they hadn’t spent all those years apart.

Karma mused as Nagisa looked at the building they were about to enter, wide-eyed. The residential neighbourhood was evidently home to wealthy families. It was a more unusual residential neighbourhood, behind the large, tall gates the area resembled an orderly botanical garden. Karma carried him on a brick paved road, to either sides where modern, white and beige houses and in front of them where plentiful gardens that made up for the plainness presented by the accommodations. The houses were arranged randomly, some standing on their own, intricate pathways twisting through them. Thick trees furbished the lawn, it was more a park than a residential.

Karma could here the cackle of children’s play in the distance, dancing, running and hiding in between the trees. At the end of the garden, there was a high apartment block, large glass windows reflecting sharp sunlight. Nagisa dozed; bathed in the warm lights of the elevator. His sleep left him unknowing of Karma’s attention. It was very intimate, in the lift, just them two. As he lay him on the couch, Karma could hardly hear the soft breath, swirling from Nagisa’s chest, a habit he must’ve picked up. Karma felt that his face was hot and brought his cool palms to cover his cheeks and eyes. Through his fingers he peaked at blue hair, pale skin.

 

What a sight! A bored, warm, tall young man with comely features folded into a careful expression (in case he’s being watched) and hair ablaze (kissed by Apollo, god of Sun and Fireplace), leaning slowly over the couch to gaze at his opposite. The sun glows pink in the room, usually a feminine colour but now it seems just right, a hue that curtains the capacity with neutral purpose and intent. But pink can be a heavy colour (although neutral), the dye of human flesh, insides. Heavy, and hot, he still feels this way. He goes to open the windows in front of him, the ones he left open last night. The wind greets him shyly at first, but becomes bolder as it scratches at his face. The light from the sun gives life to his hair, wind styling it backwards, and enlightens his forehead, his nose and mouth, beaten by the cold.

He wants to complain, being brutalised both physically and emotionally is not something he enjoys; he wants to whinge and whine. He could do so if he wished it, from the highest point of the botanical forest that was the residential, he could see the city, getting into it’s pre-midday schedule. He was King, he observed the rush and noise from afar, governed it, but was not part of it (not now anyways). He smiled, his eyes gleamed like outer-worldly lanterns; his face seemed to cool down to a more suitable temperature, one he planned to keep constant.

His peace is tried when he hears a high soft, high-pitched murmur of complaint. He turns round to see him (that’s happening quite a lot recently) and finds that the other only occupant of the room is cold. _What’s the use of that thick sweater, if not to keep you warm?_

He kneels on the floor next to him and feels the material of the clothing mentioned between his fingers, thick. And he doesn’t like it, the idea of Nagisa being cold, forever cold. Constantly frozen over, icy. It’s not appealing; his fingers wander to the bandaged hand. He tries to imagine what caused the injury, but finds that he’d prefer not to think about it. He remembers that the windows are open, and that’s what is probably making Nagisa cold. He shuts the windows and the curtains, the room gets darker. He goes to the kitchen; the coffee machine is buzzing softly like some animal or lizard and Karma takes off the blazer he was wearing. He pours the coffee (black, aqueous, pungent) into a simple white mug. He sits at the large, round wooden table in the living room, he can see Nagisa from there.

 

 

 

Kayano was thinking about kids, about having children. She was on her period and the stench left by the dried blood on her tampon was unpleasant.

 

Her cramps were always violent, she had to take medication in middle school and high school which would always leave her oddly tired.

She went to the kitchen and took an envelope of camomile tea. While the water boiled, the image of a tiny, pink face found its way to interrupt her thought process.

It was most likely a few weeks old, and it was crying. In vain, there was no one there to pick it up and sooth it; she thought it strange. She could just simply imagine some kind parent pick up the infant, but she didn’t.

She tried to picture how her children would look, if Nagisa would be the father. Dolls with big, dark green and blue eyes with curled hazel-brown hair and porcelain faces came to mind. They were adorable little beings, but as hard as she try, Kayano couldn’t see them moving.

They were seated, still, on a delicate white ottoman and the foot of a large bed that had cream sheets with white lace folded neatly on top; there were no pillows in sight. Even if the children didn’t move, she peered into their eyes to see what emotions they held.

She tried to focus on the irises, but the harder she tried to focus, the cloudier the colour got until they were just blanched a pale grey. The inanimate reality of the whole scene startled her and she realised that she might be picturing finely-kept infantile corpses.

The thought shook her stomach and she ran to the bathroom to vomit. She rinsed her mouth, washed her face and hands before going back to the kitchen to make her tea. She took the mug with boiling water and camomile diffusing in amongst it (she noted that the diffusion looked like small tentacles that seemed far too familiar) and made her way to place herself on the couch.

 

 

 

{You’d think they’re going out, but nobody knows if it is really so (do they even know?). Their former class-mates sure thought so.

In middle school, Karma always seemed to prefer Nagisa, and even though their awkward banter was really gay, were they _really_ gay? For each other that is. And Asano didn’t know whether Nagisa and Karma had something going on; he hadn’t thought he cared, but the relationship was peculiar and Asano wondered why Nagisa would come to him when he was clearly wanted somewhere else.

After what happened the day prior to Nagisa cutting his hair, they would occasionally sneak to a deserted part of the school (Asano had a master room-plan) and fool around. It was silly, they’d snarl harsh insults, inflict small scratches of frustration on each other; it was violent and mean: apparently it was exactly the type of thing they both wanted, desperately needed.

A way to relieve pent up stress, anger they couldn’t otherwise publicly or openly express. Asano found that it felt entirely intimate. Even if the murmurs, threats, growls, kisses, and bites were insensitive, it was all sincere.

 

They were sitting together, Asano and Nagisa, at the reception of a large kindergaten, on a green couch. “What are we doing here?” Nagisa asked.

“I’m here to inspect the kindergarten”.

Nagisa raised an eyebrow as if to ask why exactly a high school student had business inspecting a kindergarten, but he asked no questions to further inquire about that.

“What am I doing here, then”.

His voice was a bit lower and hushed than it usually sounded, he was tired and he looked vulnerable to a cold that already seemed accountable for puffy, red eyes.

“You’re here to accompany me; you’re good with kids”.

Nagisa took a contemplative pause before adding to Asano’s remark: ”I think you could be good with children.”.

It might’ve been said out of politeness, but what Nagisa said was kind, and Asano found it oddly endearing. He thought that maybe he would like being liked by children. He’d never thought about it, children were always these noisy rat monsters that were of no use to him. They were annoying, naive, weak; but Asano found use for them. A study in how they develop from ignorant little elves to refined adults, that had their place in the society they once were so clueless about.

The reason they were here (during school time, those lucky sods) was for Asano to do his practical for sociology project, he thought that Nagisa would benefit from the half hour journey to be able to take a nap.

They were sitting on a green couch, comfortable. The institution, privately owned, was well built, walls painted a cheery and sweet pink had billboards with drawings, motivational quotes(that the children couldn’t probably even read), and a detail that are a bit more uncommon: pressed flowers. Nagisa noticed them as they were told to wait, they weren’t utilised as stencils for curtains or collages, they were pressed in plastic.

Also, the flowers weren’t put randomly as decoration, they were put in three rows across the board, under each one was a small white notation that served to identify the name in Latin.

Nagisa was about to doze off when a lady came to greet them. She introduced herself as the teacher of class 1-a. She smiled as she explained how the classes were separated into five groups per year. 1-a were the first grade bumblebees, the class they were going to be visiting. She asked them if they wanted anything to eat or drink and Nagisa mumbled that a coffee would be just swell, not actually expecting anyone to hear him. However, when she heard him, both Asano and Nagisa were surprised when they didn’t receive the ‘coffee is bad for brain development’ talk.

Instead, she asked him if he wanted it sweet or bitter and told him that she’d have some ginger tea made for his cold. He replied that he wanted his coffee with salted caramel (they had that) and thanked her for thinking of his health, she then told the lady typing at the reception desk to bring the drinks to the class they were headed at.

 

They stopped in front of an open door, music pooling from the inside. As they peeked in, there were children singing. They sung in harmony, the group of small children, dressed in fancy white button-up shirts (some with lace decorative, some without; some with frills, some without; some with white buttons, some with black;) No child was smiling, their small lips contorted in sync and sung a tune that had too sorrowful a tune, that it seemed absurd for children to sing.

However, they managed to to just that, they seemed so mature, it was silly. But if you looked closely, you could see snickers held back, smiles contained and a slight bubble in the choir’s melody from suppressed laughter. After listening for a few minutes, it could be ascertained that the song was about a ghost, looking for unknowing people to scare and trouble to make, at that moment in the song, the pace was quick and slightly more cheerful.

But the ghost sees a woman and falls in love.

The inability to be with her brings on emotions that are prolonged in deep, minor chords. The song ends up with the ghost miserable from the separation from someone so dear to him, someone who hadn’t even ever seen him.

The song ended and the teacher guiding them gestured for them to enter the classroom. They introduced themselves as the children headed to their seats on big and round grey tables; the chairs were colourful and looked comfortable. They were told to observe the remainder of the music lesson from a big couch with a dusty orange colour.

As in opposition to the sombre song they sung, the children’s faces wore expressions of eagerness and delight and Asano saw Nagisa also smile at the enthusiasm for learning. Their small, happy faces were illuminated by the sun; a warm light in cold weather.

 

When free time came, the children pounced on them, some of the children spoke japanese with an accent so after Nagisa inquired about where they were from, he began to speak to some of them in their native language and the children babbled on cheerily.

Asano admired Nagisa and the colloquial ease as he spoke, his voice slightly hoarse with the twinge of illness that threatened his health. Children also came to beam and radiate smiles at Asano, who greeted them with short nods and ‘hello’s; before he knew it he had little rats clambering onto him like he was a new jungle gym set.

They asked about his hair, his eyes, one boy saying that the only person born with violet eyes was Elisabeth Tailor(but she had black hair) and from then on the children made up stories about how Asano was cursed and how the strange colour of his iris was the eternal physical manifestation of this.

While Nagisa was talking to a group of children about jet fighter planes and mach-speed, two girls came up to Asano giggling with their cheeks tinted a light flowery pink.

 

“Nagisa is pretty” the shorter one says giggling and the other one can’t stop humming some nursery rhyme.

The giggling doesn’t seem mocking and is most likely because of shyness, “Yes he is” the taller girl continues, she has a bag of dried fruit in her hand and she plugs her mouth with a large fig.

For a moment, Asano tilts his head so he is staring right at the ceiling; blue butterflies hang from the ceiling and the sun diffuses though the transparent material they are crafted from.

 

“Yes he is” he repeats, his voice low and he looks back at the two girls who are now not smiling, but their eyes tell him they are happy.

“Nagisa is pretty”.

 

They all fall asleep at nap time, in his dreams Asano is sitting in a garden with an abundance of flowers around him. The sweet scents fill his nostrils and he feels warmth.}


	6. Mother, mother figure, father figure; best friends and entertainment.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nagisa is sad about his mother and about other things while Karma can't stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Nagisa talking about his mother abusing him and stuff like that, but the rest is Karma being happy i guess, if abuse (both physical and other) and murder are not the stuff for you then i suggest you don't read.
> 
> The rhythm might be a bit different towards the end seeing that i haven't been writing this for like 4 months, what can ya do, maybe it's a bit short and maybe it's a bit shit meh
> 
> if anyone has suggestion for themes feelings or whatever feel free to comment!

One reason Nagisa wasn’t currently under his mother’s control was simply because she was dead. Murdered that is. It really was unfortunate, for him. For Nagsia that is.

 

 

{Coming home was normal, a normal thing to do, something he did almost everyday. It’s just a few more days until Nagisa finishes high-school and he has started thinking of universities for what he wants to do. He was thinking how nice it was that today the sky had cleared and the sun glazed the hills in the distance with warmth; it was all quite pleasant.

He came inside, like he normally did; the front door was slightly ajar but that was probably just because his mother had not paid attention in closing it, which was very normal (you see, they were quite a normal family). He came in quietly and went up the stairs to his room, to avoid having his mother talk to him about things that were more than likely to upset both of them.  
Like how particularly hard she had hit him the other day, this time was an accident. She turned too fast and registered a small cut on Nagisa’s forehead with a kitchen knife. He could’ve avoided it but he didn’t.

She always apologised when it was an accident, much less keen to do so when it wasn’t. If he thought about it, he never even heard her acknowledge what she did to him and he wondered whether she was in some state of denial about it. He didn’t like her apologising either way. When it was an accident, he could feel that she was sincerely sorry about harming him.   
It was a reminder that she actually loved him in a some way. Genuinely.

  
Kindness like this always made him falter with his determination in going against her; it made his chest hurt and the tears always bubbled slowly to sting his eyes and face, and his chest always felt like he was heaving in chlorine gas whenever he remembered that she really did love him.  
It was so sad to see her so disillusioned by the idea that she thought that what she was doing was really to help him. She wanted to prevent the disappointment that she had felt. Sometimes he really couldn’t even tell what the disappointments she faced actually were.

She was so convinced that her ideas and remedies were right that there was no voice of reason to get anything else through to her. She was lost, and the fact that Nagisa couldn’t help her was painful; he felt it lower in his stomach. She neglected him in this way (in too many ways). The neglect was evident and even if he got used to him, it would always ring in his ears and scratch at his arms when he was around her.  
What also hurt was that she probably didn’t see even see him when she looked at him; maybe all she saw was her younger self. It was terrifying to think that he might not exist to her, he didn’t know how aware she was of **_him_** and the thought made him vomit more than once.  
But he knew that in her own way, she did love **_him_**.   
With that in mind, loosing her was quite devastating.

 

 

Maybe if the walls were painted with blood, maybe that would have been better. That way, he would have maybe noticed her when he came in. He only came down an hour after he’d shut the door to his room, to get water from the kitchen. He filled his cup and as he turned from the tap to glance at the dull air behind him, he saw her legs sprawled out on the floor. His cup dropped to the floor as suddenly as his heart sunk and the shattering of glass would have been his wail, but the cup was made of plastic- to have a heavy thump resound through dull air, dead air.

After the initial shock he looked at her to see what happened. There were no bruises, no signs of struggle and the awkward position on the floor was due to her falling limp (and dead). The only immediate proof of it being murder was the thin line (now a darker colour) on her neck that trickled to the puddle stain on the carpet beneath her. Shock smacks him all over and his arms start trembling. He sinks to his knees, bends his head (he uses his arms to cover his head) down to touch the floor and squeezes his eyes shut.

What if the murderer is still here? What if he comes to kill him? But Nagisa can’t hear and he wants to run outside to have someone near him **(he feels so alone)** to protect him from the stench he now notices in the living room. But his legs don’t work and his eyes go blind from the tears (he’s been crying for a while now).   
After two minutes he grows too scared to stay in the house alone and he grabs his phone and runs outside. He runs for awhile, he ends up somewhere at the end of some street and he catches his breath before dialling. It’s the first person that comes to mind and the only one that he wanted to know at that time.

 

 

“Irina?” his voice a low scratch on an electrical cello.  
“….Nagisa (.5) what’s wrong honey?”  
“Are you in Japan right now?”  
“(0.5)Tell me what’s wrong”  
“Can you come pick me up?”

 

Irina arrives ten minutes later in some government black car and Karasuma with her, she asks Nagisa if its fine that he came and Nagisa honestly preferres it. They asked what was wrong and he tells them that his mother was murdered.  
He showed them to his house and Karasuma investigated and called over a team of men all dressed in uniform black suit and tie. Irina forbade anyone except Karasuma to ask Nagisa any questions.   
Nagisa stayed with Irina and Karasuma after that, but only for a short while.  
Lovro was quick to take advantage of the situation.

In the week that Nagisa stayed at Karasuma’s, no one but him and Irina came over, so it was odd that Nagisa heard a step from the hallway stopping outside their door. Karasuma was home, and he too seemed surprised at the unexpected visit, however it seemed that he knew exactly who it was that was paying a visit as Karasuma immediately addressed him: 

“Irina’s not here.”

“I’m not here for Irina.”

At this Karasuma, faster than any lighting bolt that hit that Japans ground that week, slammed the door shut with a violent thunder, but Lovro managed to slide by with a thick leathery smile on his face. Whether instinctively or not, Karasuma stood as a tall wall blocking Lovro’s eyes from dragging on Nagisa, who sat expectantly on the couch.

 

“How is he?”.

There was hardly a smidgen of compassion in Lovro’s question, it was rather eager, more intent on taking advantage of the situation than helping Nagisa get past it.

“Get out, I’ll call a team to come here and get you if you don’t leave.”.

 

“No, I just wanted to come and pay my condolences, that’s all. Nagisa, come here so I can come and see you.”.

After Nagisa went over to Lovro, that was really all that was needed to convince him: that stare. Nagisa knew that he would be useful, he could see it in Lovro’s eyes. A future before him, a violent one, one to ease his anger, his anxiety, to ease frustration; to ease out the most unpleasant memories. A lifestyle where he would bathe in blood and be haunted by the screams and defeated faces of his victims: caricatures attempting to portray suffering and the realisation of death that is before you.

Lovro always had a tendency to romanticise the assassinations. He accompanied Nagisa at the first ones, and compared the task to that of a butchers when slaughtering pigs; that comparison never really appealed to Nagisa either, he’d never been one to sympathise with animal cruelty.

He hardly had anytime to think on what he was leaving behind in the heat of the moment; when the realisation dawned upon him, he was already far deeper in his ‘occupation’ than he cared to admit.}

 

  
He woke up screaming. He was having a nightmare about pigs on a farm squealing and running around, he was shooting them down, one by one. The dream was detailed and gory, left the taste of bile in his mouth. He was sure there was no metaphorical meaning behind it, his dreams often have the sole purpose of mortifying him out of his mind; this has been going on for years.  
As he woke up tears swelled in his eyes and onto his face, he tried to whine and scream again but all that came out were muffled chokes and whispers.  
But he immediately came back. It’s always been automatic for Nagisa to go on full alert whenever he woke up in foreign surroundings, a reflex developed from past..unpleasantries.

 

Pupils screwed tight and irises glowed in front of him, Nagisa’s eyes were glass, the effect gotten from the tears that clung to blue lashes. Karma had a start when Nagisa screamed, and it was odd how Nagisa didn’t register his presence, even when Karma was right in front of him on the couch. The hand that wasn’t bandaged, felt around his pockets, and Karma was a bit alarmed to realise that it was to find a weapon - it’s worrying to see it embedded as a reflex, searching for arms even before having your eyes focus.  
But when Nagisa’s eyes do focus, it’s pleasant seeing the expression of alarm altering to one of confusion; Nagisa was probably wondering what he was doing in a luxurious apartment rather than a dubious basement surrounded by men with torture instruments.

“What?”

Came out quietly and astounded, and then his pupils diffused back to a comfortable size with recollection on what had passed the last couple of hours. They sat staring at each other some time and Karma wished that they could stay like that for eternity.

 

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“What?”

“You woke up screaming.”

“oh”

 

They stared at each other a couple more moments before Karma broke it again:  
“Do you want something to eat?”

It was the first thing that came to mind, he was hungry and having a meal with your best friend that you’d been looking for for years would justify the silence since their mouths would be full.  
Nagisa’s lips were still parted slightly, probably a bit taken aback with his predicament, and he nodded after a few seconds.  
Karma’s no genius cook, and Rita hadn’t left any casserole or something of the sort in the fridge.   
Still on the couch, what they had said up until now was but a whisper, so that Karma felt like he was about to fall asleep to the lulling air around them. So he decided to go with his cheery-pitched voice in attempt to hasten the mood to be more up - beat and fast paced, more like his comfort zone.  
So when he asked Nagisa what he wanted to eat, Karma felt something akin to a bloom inside his chest when he saw a faint , exhausted smile when Nagisa looked up to respond. “Rice. Plain and simple.” Before even knowing it, Karma was smiling; a wide (probably a bit goofy) smile, that after a few moments had him gleeful. He motions to the round table in the living room for Nagisa to sit before taking to the kitchen  
Rice is easy to make and he doesn’t put too much effort into the task, it allows him to catch up with his thoughts.  
First thing is him trying to deny how much he wants this - Nagisa waking up on his couch, Karma cooking them lunch (omg Karma it’s just rice); despite himself and all his other pressing worries and inquiries all he can do is fantasise on a domestic version of their lives: boring and uneventful.

 

But this fades away in grey watercolour and something more dynamic takes it’s place - what is meant to be there: bountiful, animated and litres of blood,

Karma and Nagisa can’t have a nice domestic life because they are too busy dancing, too busy fighting, arguing, slaughtering, laughing. He thinks he went too far with slaughtering, but it was one of the first things that came to mind - he had imagined plotting for an assassination scheme, but slaughtering just barged in, the ugly old prostitute cousin of _killing_ or even _murdering_. Karma realises that he’s going slightly too far and that recently he’s spent too much at his desk at the office, he craves theatrics, exaggeration, **entertainment**.

He shakes his head and wonders whether or not he should ask Nagisa about why he ran away when he saw Karma. But when Karma looks back to the living room with Nagisa still on the couch, he decides not to.

 

He takes a deep breath and checks the rice, he makes some green tea and sets their impromptu meal on the dinning table and invites Nagisa over with a nod of his head. Nagisa gets up gingerly, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing any left over tears from his eyes. He’s at the table and for a moment Karma feels like this will be awkward, that they won’t be able to talk, that Nagisa will find it as an excuse to leave and that they will never see each other again; and in that moments he feels the panic slapping away the warmth that was slowly creeping into him, and a moment later Nagisa looks up at him and it seems enough to swat away the panic and Karma has a confused and eager grin on his face again and to keep himself from laughing manically he says:

“hey”.

Nagisa seemed to watch Karma’s mood change with a curiosity that has ‘wondering how your manic friend has not been institutionalised all these years’ written over it, but Karmas grin seems to have caught Nagisa by surprise as he smiles and says back:

“hey”.

 

 

 

In that moment Nagisa is proud of himself to find that he feels completely at ease and safe within Karma’s space, safe with his oldest friend, his comrade, playmate and past co-conspiracist. He takes the spoon offered to him and starts eating and taking sips of his tea. He feels like he could sleep now, a dreamless sleep and maybe Karma would join him on the couch if he asked, if he felt comfortable doing so. He muses at how easily he’s slipped back into Karma’s space, his rhythm, his speed and Nagisa considers that he might’ve missed that the most, him and Karma adjusting to eachother constantly, compromising.

He decides that he won’t sleep, no naps, he finishes eating and even if he feels rueful in having to be responsible for the slow fade of Karma’s smile he know that he has to do this and starts talking:

 

“I left because my mom was murdered”

he paused to look up for interruption or something to suggest that Karma was terribly uncomfortable, but Karma had merely reacted by taking a longer intake of breath, and he waited for Nagisa to continue- and Nagisa feels the tension in his body leave him when he says something that he has never said out loud-

 

 

 

“And I think I might’ve done it”;


End file.
